


#eggplant

by lifefindsaway



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempts at sexting, Daddy Kink, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifefindsaway/pseuds/lifefindsaway
Summary: George gets the hang of texting and learns the nuances of emoji.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infearfulday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infearfulday/gifts).



> This isn't good. Sorry, not sorry.

They go on maybe three dates before it occurs to George to give John his phone number. It's not that he doesn't want him to have it, it's just that they see each other five days a week and email each other more often than that for work. They're sitting together in Freedom Plaza, each sipping iced coffee and watching the kids skateboard across L'Enfant's Plan. Occasionally one falls of their board, and the others erupt into shouts and laughter. It's late enough in the afternoon that the sun isn't directly overhead, so it's not as hot, but it's still bright out. It's pleasant.

"Hey," John says casually, in the way George is learning means that he's not at all as at ease as he seems, and that he's probably about to say something he's thought about a lot, or even rehearsed ahead of time. "So. I had a question."

"Yes?" George says.

"Just. I was just wondering," John says. "I was just wondering why it is you haven't let me give you my number." Instantly, George feels bad. The way John's phrased it makes George's oversight seem like some comment on John or how interested George might be in him, which is far from the case. He just feels all the worse for John bringing it up this way, though he's grateful for the reminder.

"I thought you might not want an extra demand on your time," George says, which actually is partly true.

"You gonna be demanding?"

"I could be," George admits.

John grins and holds out his phone. His upper lip is shiny from coffee, and his skin glows in the setting sun. George feels more than a little helpless. He takes John's phone and saves his number.

The first time John texts George, he's mystified. He studies the texts intently for a little while, struggling to divine their meaning, then bites the bullet and goes to John's desk and asks him about it.

"Oh," John says, laughing. He asks if he can borrow George's phone, and he plays around with the settings for a few minutes while he talks. "I sent you emoji, they just were't installed on your phone, that's why you got the boxes," he explains. He hands George's phone back with a charming wink that distracts George for a beat, and says, "There you go. Now you're in business."

When George glances down, he's even more bemused.

"What does this...mean...?" he asks hesitantly. He knows he's old, he does. He knows he's old for John. But he feels his age keenly looking at a string of symbols that have no apparent order or sense about them. At least smiley and frowny faces are obvious. But--"Is that a cucumber?"

"Eggplant," John says. He winks again, like George is supposed to get the joke.

George doesn't, but thanks him and leaves, his face slightly warmer than when he left.

George eventually does look it up. Mostly because it eats at him, sits there in the back of his mind. An eggplant, John had said. And he'd sent it with water and a little face almost too small for George to make out the expression on, and an arrow (or something; that one really is too small for George to see clearly, even with his glasses), and a heart.

What he finds is this:

An eggplant emoji, known as an aubergine in Japan and some other countries speaking British English. A long, purple-looking vegetable used in many types of cooking around the world. It is considered lucky in Japan to dream of an eggplant in the first dream of the new year.

He supposes it means that John thinks he's lucky, or that George should be lucky, and George finds that highly endearing.

He smiles and sends John a little eggplant too.

They go on maybe four dates when George takes John home for the first time. They've been out for dinner and drinks, and they've gone through a bottle of wine and then some. John holds his alcohol well, but George is bigger and it doesn't hit him the same way.

In the cab to George's apartment, George is loose-limbed, sprawled along the back seat. John is giggly, tries his hardest to climb into George's lap. He kisses George wetly on the mouth, and then the jaw, and then the neck. George puts an arm around John's waist and keeps him from trailing his mouth lower. John tries to fight him a little on it, but George tightens his grip and John actually whines.

"Daddy." He pouts at George, then forgets he's upset and kisses George again.

George's heart pounds so quickly he's momentarily afraid it might leap from his chest. John doesn't notice that, but he does notice George's distraction.

"Daddy," he says again. He tries to unbutton George's shirt. George has to catch his hand to stop him.

"Shh, I'm going to take care of you, my boy" he murmurs. He feels John tremble against him. The ride home is the longest of his life.

They text daily, sometimes for hours at a time. Emoji don't always feature, but John likes them and uses them liberally. He favors a couple, including the eggplant, and George gets good at texting, he thinks. He's mastered not only the eggplant, but also stars, hearts, eyes, smiley faces, and even a little US flag that makes John laugh out loud every time he uses it.

They have sleepovers at least once a week now too, but usually more often than that. Usually, John goes home with George. They don't always fuck, though that's also a thing John loves doing. George is sure that if John had his way, he'd be Daddy every night, and he'd take John apart every night. Sometimes, though, they just go home and have a quiet dinner. Curl up together and fall asleep. George always ends up with a mouthful of curls, John's pointy elbow poking him in the stomach.

George is falling in love, maybe.

One day, George comes home to find a package waiting for him. He's curious and, because he works in government, wary because he wasn't expecting anything.

It's heavy, when he picks it up, and has his address, but the return address is not one with which he's familiar. George feels it out a moment, tries to decide whether he should open it or dispose of it. He hesitates a moment, then lets his curiosity get the better of him. He opens the envelope to find--an actual eggplant.

George frowns, picks it up. It's just an eggplant, it seems. Which would be odd anyway, except when George turns it over, he sees "Daddy" written on the side.

So this is from John.

George laughs so hard he feels his eyes water.

He takes the eggplant inside, texts John a heart, and asks him to come to dinner.

"Hey, whatever you're making smells good!"

George's front door closes, and George smiles to himself. He wipes his hands on his apron, takes a bottle of red wine into the little dining room he never used much until he had John to cook for and impress. George isn't dressed up, but he did try to look a little nicer than usual. He's already set the table. He has candles out and everything.

John looks stunning, as always. He's still in the suit George saw him in at work, albeit a little more rumpled from his evening travel and a long day in the office. He's taken his hair down, though, and George wants to card his fingers through those curls more than he's ever wanted anything.

"It's a surprise," George says. He holds up the wine. "Can I pour you a glass?"

"Yeah, please," John says. He settles into "his" chair, loosens his tie, drapes it and his jacket across the back of the other chair they never use. "God, it's been a long day. Been looking forward to this all afternoon. Woulda come sooner, but Alex was just--Alex. You know?"

George pours his wine, nods sympathetically, excuses himself to the kitchen. He takes extra care plating their meal, absolutely showing off. He returns with two plates. He sets John's down first, then settles down in his own seat with his plate. He pours himself a glass of wine.

"George." John has an odd look on his face when George glances over at him. "What is this?"

"Oven roasted eggplant with a red wine butter sauce and potatoes," George says. He feels truly nervous around John for the first time in a long time.

John is silent for about half a minute before he starts laughing. And laughing, and laughing. Long enough and hard enough that George goes from worried to confused to a little offended and back.

"Oh my god," John says, when he catches his breath. "Oh my god, oh my god."

"What?" George asks defensively.

"Oh my god," John says again. "You got it and you--oh my god." He pushes away from the table, doubled over, laughing, panting for breath because he still can't stop laughing. "I guess you got my...package?" George has the feeling that would be innuendo were John not crying.

"The eggplant," George agrees, moving once again into confusion. "Yes. I thought--I mean. It was a sweet gesture. I was trying to do something nice for you in return." He sips his wine to give himself something to do. Tries not to feel so awkward and old.

"It was a fucking joke," John says through tears. "You know, like. Sexting, but, like. I don't know. A joke. Like, 'Hey, hope you're up for a good time because I sure as hell am.' That kind of thing? Like the emoji."

"It's lucky."

John blurts out in a fresh peal of laughter. When he calms down, he says, "Oh my god, George. No, it's a dick. I mean, you can call it lucky if you want, but--no. George."

George blushes for the first time in years.

"Holy shit, I love you," John says. He gets up, pushes at George's shoulder til George scoots back and makes room for him. John drops into his lap, kisses him deeply and at length. It occurs to George that John's never told him that he loves him and that's a big deal. It also occurs to him that he's been sexting for weeks without realizing it. He chooses to focus on one of those things for the time being.

"You love me."

John kisses his cheek. "I love you." No hesitation, just a statement of fact. George marvels at him. John gets up. "Now I'm going to eat your eggplant. And then I'm going to eat your eggplant. Better eat up. You're gonna need your all your strength, Daddy."

George downs the rest of his glass of wine in one go.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to follow John's example and send an eggplant to someone (to each their own), there's [a whole service dedicated to it](https://eggplantmail.com/). Facebook decided to call me out one day and let it show up as an ad on my feed, and, well. Here we are.


End file.
